Crazy Random Happenstances
by RexDragosaurus
Summary: After some wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey timeline trouble, a pre-regeneration Doctor is stuck with the post-regeneration Noble family. So naturally the best thing to do would be to go out on the most awkward shopping trip ever...right? Two-shot. (Yes, the title is a reference to a certain sing-along blog.)
1. Part One

**A/N: Hi, all! Sorry it's been so long since I promised this story; it turned out to be a fair bit longer than I'd expected (and so is now a two-shot), and a load of schoolwork and Camp NaNoWriMo stuff got in the way. But the important thing is it's done now, and hopefully worth the wait. **

**For those who haven't read my story "Time-jacked", this is just a silly alternate direction it could have taken. All you need to know is that the Doctor has been mysteriously moved from a point on his timeline between "Voyage of the Damned" and "Partners in Crime" to a point after "The End of Time". Left without his TARDIS (which disappeared), he has had to crash at the Nobles' place for a while, posing as an old family friend so as not to endanger Donna, who is staying with her mother and Wilf while her husband is away. None of that's really important to this plot, but is just the general setting.**

* * *

**Part One**

"Where're you going?" the Doctor asked.

"Oh, just out and about," said Mrs Noble, "visit a few shops, grab some lunch, that sort of thing."

"That should be fun," said the Doctor, not sounding entirely as though he meant it.

"Yes. Well." said Mrs Noble, in much the same tone. "You can...come along if you like, I suppose."

The Doctor reflected that even after the relatively warm welcome she'd bestowed upon him (all pineapple-throwing aside), Donna's mother still didn't seem to like him very much. That was okay, though; he was used to that.

What was much harder to cope with was this feeling that he and Donna were apparently supposed to be mates—only they weren't, because as far as he remembered, they'd only met once; and _she_ didn't know him at all except as John Smith, some bloke who'd turned up out of the blue and professed to be an old friend of the family.

He wished he might be able to _do _something about it, something harmless, which wouldn't trigger memories of things which for him hadn't happened yet, but which for her could be fatal. Something nice and simple, like... Well, like a shopping trip.

Suddenly, the Doctor beamed.

"What is it?" Mrs Noble asked with a hint of suspicion.

"You know," said the Doctor, "I think I will."

"What?" said Donna.

"I'll come with you." said the Doctor, still beaming. "Visit a few shops, grab some lunch, that sort of thing."

Donna and her mother exchanged dubious glances.

"That should be fun." Mrs Noble said heavily.

"Can I come too?" asked Wilfred.

* * *

They drove off into town a short while later, Donna and Mrs Noble in the front, Wilfred and the Doctor in the back. The Doctor led everyone in a spirited rendition of "Bohemian Rhapsody", and then he and Wilf played Yellow Car for ten minutes or so after that, until Donna politely suggested that they both shut up.

After finding a suitable car park to stop at, the party sallied forth on foot to one of the nearby shopping strips. Their first destination therein turned out to be a quaint little haberdashery. The Doctor, needless to say, was surprised by this, and just a tiny bit fascinated. "What are we doing in here?" he asked Donna, as he and Wilfred examined belts and ties, hats, gloves and socks.

"I dunno," said Donna, who appeared slightly irritated by the question. "Mum, what are we doing in here?"

"I'm trying to find a present for Old Mad Steve," Mrs Noble replied, looking through a box of hankies. "It's his birthday on Tuesday—"

"Oh, blimey," said Donna, heaving a sigh, "is it _that _time of the year already?"

"Yes, and you know how he gets when the neighbours don't pay tribute, so hush for a moment and help me pick something decent." Mrs Noble selected a particularly large and vibrant handkerchief from the box and waved it at the Doctor. "Doc—I mean, John, what do you think?"

The Doctor, who'd been giggling at a rather silly window display, turned sharply on his heel and frowned at the article being flourished before him. "How d'you mean?"

"In your opinion, would this appeal to a madman?" Mrs Noble clarified.

"Er...I don't know." said the Doctor, scratching speculatively at his ear. "Depends on the madman."

"Well, do _you _like it?"

"_Me?" _

"Yes, you're a bit mad. Do you like it?"

"Well..." The Doctor leaned forward and put on his glasses. "Maybe a bit."

"Hmm." said Mrs Noble. "No, I don't think that'll quite do it."

"Alright, so how about a tie or something, then?" Donna proposed. "You know Old Mad Steve likes his swanky cravats."

"True," said Mrs Noble, "only he has quite enough of those, so why not try something a little bit different?"

"An excellent suggestion," said a new voice. "I'd give him a bow tie if I were you. Bow ties are cool."

As one, Donna and her mother, Wilfred and the Doctor turned around and stared at the owner of this voice with just a faint aura of indignation. In a way, he was worth staring at, with his funny hair and his wide smile and his slightly awkward posture. But there was something queerer about him than all that. It wasn't just that it was hard to tell how old he was from his young face and ancient eyes and outmoded style of dress (which happened to include a bow tie), but also that he seemed oddly familiar, and yet not one of them remembered ever having seen him before.

"Who're you?" Donna asked at last, summing up everyone else's thoughts perfectly.

The stranger hesitated a moment before answering; the smile faded slowly from his face as he looked at Donna, a glimmer of recognition appearing in his eyes, causing them to seem older and sadder than before. "I...I was just looking for a friend," he said. "She has hair like yours, so I thought she might be you until I came closer. I'm...sorry to interrupt."

"But we haven't met somewhere before, have we?" Donna persisted. "Because you look like..." She trailed off for a moment, then shook her head and said frustratedly, "Oh, I don't know."

The Doctor, who was starting to get a peculiar feeling himself about the identity of this man, decided abruptly that he ought to take control of the situation. "Oh, it's you!" he exclaimed, taking a step forward and shaking the stranger's hand as all eyes turned to him. "Everyone, this is my—friend, er...John...Smythe."

As everyone else looked mildly confused, Donna raised a sceptic eyebrow at the Doctor. "Is that so?"

The Doctor opened his mouth to try and make his claim seem more credible, but to his relief the stranger—or, in a way, not-stranger—cottoned on at once. "Oh, yes!" he said, with something more of his initial jovial air. "That's me, John Smythe. Yep. No doubt about it. I'd heard that my old friend, er—" He paused and darted a glance at the Doctor, who mouthed something. "—John Smith was in town, but I didn't believe it until just now. Isn't that funny?" He proceeded to laugh, and after a moment the Doctor joined in. Donna, Mrs Noble and Wilfred just exchanged a glance.

"Er, anyway," the Doctor said, when they'd finished laughing and found that the awkward tension in the air had not abated, "would you just, er, please excuse us for a minute? Sorry. I just need to..." He took his "friend" firmly by the arm and led him off towards the back of the shop, where they ducked behind a rack of coats and were lost from sight.

"You know, compared to those two, Old Mad Steve's starting to look pretty good." Donna mused.

"Ah well." said Mrs Noble, trying to hide her irritation at the Doctor's antics. "Do you think he'd like this one?" They continued to talk amongst themselves, turning to more mundane topics as they tried to find a bow tie that their potty old neighbour would be pleased with. Wilfred stared at the distant coat rack and wondered what was going on behind it. He hoped the Doctor would explain things soon...

"Excuse me." A hand tapped Wilfred on the shoulder; he started slightly, then turned around to find himself faced with an apologetic young man and his wife, a pretty red-headed woman who appeared slightly impatient. "Sorry to bother you," said the man, "but have you seen an odd sort of bloke with a bow tie? Messy hair? Calls himself the Doctor? We thought we saw him come in here, only he seems to have vanished."

"He does that sometimes," added his wife. "It's really annoying."

"Er, well," said Wilfred. "We _did_ just bump into a man with a bow tie, but he said his name was John."

"Smith?"

"No, Smythe."

The couple seemed puzzled. "Hmm." said the man, turning to his wife with a frown. "Could be him?"

"Maybe..."

"Er, you're _sure _he wears a bow tie?" Wilfred ventured. "Because I've got a friend who calls himself the Doctor or John Smith, but he doesn't wear a bow tie. His hair's _sort of _messy, though..."

"No, ours always wears a bow tie." said the woman.

"It's probably the wrong one." said her husband.

"Okay, then. Let's see if he went next door..." They thanked Wilfred for his help, then wandered off again. Wilfred felt very confused as he watched them go, but after the last day or so, he was beginning to get used to that feeling. He turned as the two women finally seemed to agree upon a tie and the Doctor finally came out from behind the coat rack with his "friend" in tow.

"All sorted?" asked the Doctor.

"Think so," said Mrs Noble, exhibiting the tie they'd chosen. "What do you reckon?"

The Doctor narrowly refrained from making a face. "It's, er..."

"I love it," Smythe put in, grinning over the Doctor's shoulder. "The polka dots really give it a sort of pizzazz, if you know what I mean."

"That's what _she_ said." Mrs Noble told him, indicating her daughter.

Smythe's grin became ever so slightly fixed as he tried to meet Donna's eye, but he said nothing. Wilfred decided to try and avoid another awkward silence. "Funny thing just happened," he said. "A young couple just came in asking about a man in a bow tie, and—"

"Was one of them ginger?" Smythe asked at once.

"Er, yes, she—"

"Which way did they go?"

"They—"

"Oi!" the Doctor interrupted, giving his "friend" a sharp poke in the ribs. "We agreed no running off until all this is sorted."

"Sorry." muttered Smythe.

"What's sorted?" asked Donna.

The Doctor and his "friend" turned to Donna as if on cue, each with an unconvincing smile. "Never mind." they said simultaneously.

"But—"

"Donna, be an angel and pay for that tie, would you?" Mrs Noble said loudly.

"But—" Donna started to protest again; she was no match, however, for her mother's emphatic nudging. "Oi! Stop shoving, I'm _going_." She grabbed the tie from Mrs Noble and strode huffily away to the cashier's desk.

"Alright," said Mrs Noble to the Doctor, once her daughter was out of earshot, "will you two kindly explain what the hell is going on?"

The Doctor and Smythe exchanged a nervous glance. "Well..." said the Doctor.

"Long story short," said Smythe, "I'm him, but from the future—no, present—well, _his _future, after he dies and changes into me—and I was just looking for my friends, those two from before, I think, but I've just agreed to help past-me look for his TARDIS, only we'll have to do that without Donna knowing what's going on."

"How d'you mean?" asked Wilfred. "She'll be with _us_, won't she?"

"Yeah, but so will we, it seems." said Smythe—or, apparently, the future Doctor—with a more genuine smile this time. "Because I hear you're going more or less in _that _direction, which is also where my TARDIS is. Who knows? We might pick my friends up along the way. Wouldn't that be brilliant?"

"A bit convenient, though." the Doctor remarked. "Convenient things hardly ever happen to us."

"Well, today could be the day that changes." said the future Doctor. "So..." He turned back to Mrs Noble. "Where to next?"

"Er..." said Mrs Noble, rather disconcerted at having been given control over the very strange conversation, "well—"

"Can we go to Debenhams and get a new toaster?" asked Donna, who had just returned from the desk with a receipt and a small plastic bag. "The old one blew up this morning," she explained to the future Doctor.

"Did it really?" asked the future Doctor. "That must have been _loads _of fun to watch!"

"Actually, it was quite boring for an explosion..." said the Doctor.

"Yeah, it was, wasn't it?" said Wilfred, while Donna and Mrs Noble assumed generally acquiescent expressions. "Not that that meant there wasn't a lot of screaming involved."

"That wasn't screaming!" Mrs Noble said hotly. "It was a startled exclamation, alright? Anyway, we _do _need a new toaster, so we'll do that next. This way, everyone!" And with that, they set off once more.


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

Inside Debenhams, the quintet attracted more than a few curious stares as they wended their way towards the appliances. Both Doctors grinned merrily at the inquisitive passers-by, while a disgruntled Donna and Mrs Noble mostly ignored them. Wilfred was too bemused to do anything much but glance from his family to the Doctors to the strangers and back again, a hesitant smile on his face.

Once they'd found the section they wanted, the Doctors left the other three to engage in a heated discussion on the merits and foibles of the two-slice and four-slice toaster, preferring to browse more generally. "You know, I should really get one of those nice little toasted sandwich makers," said the future Doctor.

The Doctor was puzzled. "You've got one of those already."

"No I haven't."

"Yes you have. I've used it loads of times."

"Oh." The future Doctor sounded slightly guilty. "Yeah... It probably got a bit destroyed when you regenerated." As his past self looked stricken, he hastened to add, "It's alright! I'm making up for it now, aren't I?" And with that, he removed a small box from the shelf in front of him and tucked it under his arm.

"That's a waffle iron." the Doctor said flatly, folding his arms.

The future Doctor beamed. "I know."

* * *

Meanwhile, in another part of the shopping strip, the apologetic young man and his wife continued their search for their AWOL Doctor. At the moment they were looking in a hat shop, as they knew their extraterrestrial friend was rather fond of hats. But as their search took them to some utterly absurd places—such as the rubbish bin outside the shop, some rather small cupboards, and even a row of singularly unattractive mannequins—they found that he was nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe the hats here just aren't weird enough," said the man, gazing hopelessly at a stand of bowler hats. "You know he always goes in for the weird ones. He's so _weird_."

"True," said his wife, "but he also goes in for surprises. Maybe he's trying to surprise us by picking out a normal one this time." Spotting a curtain, she became quiet suddenly and inched towards it...before grabbing it and wrenching it aside. When her efforts revealed nothing more than a teenage couple engaged in some eyeball-meltingly horrible kissing, she threw up her hands in frustration. "No, that's a stupid idea. He's obviously not here."

"Yeah..." said the man. "Oh well. Let's try over there instead."

The young woman, however, was not impressed. "I'm getting really tired of this, Rory!" she yelled, stalking out of the shop with her long-suffering husband in tow. "I don't want to spend the whole day looking for that idiot! Let's just go back to the TARDIS and wait for him. It'd serve him right if we took off and left _him _in the lurch for once," she added in a quieter tone.

Rory, pretending not to hear this last, put his arm around her shoulders. "Yeah, I don't much fancy searching any more either..." He began to look somewhat more hopeful. "Maybe when we get back to the TARDIS, he'll already be there waiting for us."

"Maybe," his wife said doubtfully.

Rory, in spite of this unenthusiastic response, remained optimistic. "Okay," he said, "to the TARDIS." And then he turned slowly on the spot, scanning his surroundings. "Er...do you...remember exactly where...er...we left it?" He did not get an immediate reply. "Amy?"

His wife, Amy, assumed the kind of expression he'd not seen since the last time their friend had done something this colossally annoying. He remembered it, however, as though it had been yesterday. (This was because it _had _been yesterday.) "No," said Amy, almost without moving her mouth at all, "no, I do not."

* * *

Once the Nobles had at last fixed upon a toaster to purchase, the party strode merrily off to the checkout, where there was a slight hiccup when the future Doctor put his waffle iron up on the counter, realised he didn't have any money, started to sonic the cash register—but was hastily told off by his past self on account of the fact that sonic screwdrivers were a no-no when Donna was around—then finally remembered that his psychic paper could be used as a credit card.

"I can't believe you forgot that," the Doctor marvelled in an undertone as they exited the building, leaving more than a couple of confused cashiers in their wake.

"Yeah, well," the future Doctor said defensively, "I don't use the psychic paper quite so much as I used to, alright?"

"Why not?"

"I dunno! Maybe cos my sonic is better than your sonic!"

"No it isn't! It's just got a fancier casing, that's all!"

"Oh really? Well—"

"What are you two blathering on about now?" Donna demanded, at which point the Doctors realised that they were no longer conversing in whispers.

"Oh, just...stuff." said the Doctor.

"Yeah," added the future Doctor. "Wibbly-wobbly-timey-wi—" He was cut off as the Doctor clapped a hand over his mouth.

"You," the Doctor muttered, as Donna lost interest and resumed a conversation she'd been having with her grandfather on the subject of twentieth-century sci-fi shows, "have _got _to stop throwing that phrase around."

"Why?" said the future Doctor. "_You_ invented it, remember?"

"Yeah, that's why it's only cool when _I_ say it."

They continued to bicker until Mrs Noble (who wasn't in the least interested in twentieth-century sci-fi shows, and so was unable to join in with the others' discussion), growing tired of listening to them, stopped and announced loudly that it was time to go and have lunch.

* * *

The restaurant they chose was a nice little Italian place that was wedged in between a sportswear shop and a games shop. It was surprisingly quiet inside, as there weren't many customers around. This seemed rather odd at first, but not one of the five shoppers was complaining as they were directed to a table and an unusually tall waiter took their orders.

Donna and the Doctor both went for the spaghetti bolognese, while Mrs Noble had pizza and Wilfred opted for the fettuccine carbonara. The future Doctor, though initially disappointed that the place offered neither fish fingers nor custard (not one of his companions could guess as to why he'd asked so particularly for those items), eventually overcame his negativity and decided to have the same as Wilfred.

It was quite a messy business, not least because halfway through the meal the restaurant's staff turned out to be a pack of aliens who wished to eat their customers, and so Mrs Noble and Wilfred were forced to distract Donna with some impromptu beat-boxing and stand-up comedy, while the Doctors, having convinced the aliens not to make any noise, proceeded to subdue the lot of them and send them packing in as silent—but stylish—a manner as possible.

After lunch, they continued on down to the end of the strip, where the future Doctor's TARDIS was supposed to be, and, as far as Donna knew, they intended next to call in at the pharmacy for some undisclosed errands.

As Donna and Wilfred wandered off into separate parts of the shop, each in search of their own sundry mysterious bits and pieces, the Doctors and Mrs Noble strolled around near the front desk, giggling at unfortunately-named medicinal products and receiving multiple nasty glares from the staff.

Eventually the three of them became so rowdy that they were ordered out of the shop, and so they spent several minutes together outside, every now and then breaking into another fit of uncontrollable laughter, until Donna and her grandfather came back out again, clutching a couple of sealed paper bags and looking rather shifty.

"Right," said Donna, "where're we off to next, then?"

"Well," said Mrs Noble, then stopped as she saw that the future Doctor was about to speak.

"Actually," said the future Doctor, "this is where, er, John and I leave, I think." He bestowed a significant glance upon his past self, who nodded slowly and grew a great deal more serious. "But hey," the future Doctor continued, in his usual carefree tones, "it was lovely spending the afternoon with you all like this, and, er, I hope we'll have the pleasure of doing so again sometime, eh?"

"I hope not," muttered Mrs Noble. But it was a half-hearted mutter, and as the five of them began to say their goodbyes—the Doctor gaining some semblance of his future self's brave-faced cheer as he shook hands with everyone and even accepted a hug from Wilfred—a close observer might have been able to detect a faint mistiness about her eyes. But there was no such observer, and if there had been, and they'd said something, she'd have told them to mind their own business.

"Alright, then," said the Doctor, when they'd all finished and begun to shuffle slowly off in opposite directions, "well, thanks so much for letting me stay with you, and, er...what John said, I suppose. Look forward to the next time. _My_ next time, anyway..." he added softly to himself, knowing somehow in each of his hearts of hearts that there would not be a next time for these Nobles on this timeline.

Donna and Mrs Noble nodded and began to walk away. Wilfred lingered a moment longer, saluted, and began sadly to follow them. After a moment the three of them were lost in the crowd, and the two Doctors were left to turn to each other, heave a sigh, and proceed to the future Doctor's TARDIS.

* * *

Amy and Rory were hopelessly lost. They had been trying for what seemed like hours to find the TARDIS. It was quite annoying, because not only were they both footsore, weary, and really quite stressed, but they couldn't shake the nagging sensation that they were in more or less the right place, and yet the TARDIS stubbornly refused to make an appearance.

At length they collapsed onto a bench outside one of the shops, groaning and thinking about all the indignant name-calling they were going to do when the Doctor—_their_ Doctor—finally showed his face again. It was mostly Amy who was proceeding along this line of thought, but when she shared her plans with Rory, he found himself not unsympathetic to her cause. But he couldn't help reflecting to himself that it was rather sweet how his wife, even when she was unbelievably cross with the Doctor, maintained an unwavering faith in his eventual return. Then again, he supposed she was used to waiting.

They remained unmoving on the bench for the best part of an hour before Amy finally ran out of names to call the Doctor, and it was at that point, as she began to invent some new ones, that a thought occurred to her husband. "Hey," he said.

"What?" said Amy. "You think that one's too inappropriate? Well..." She considered. "Maybe, but he deserves it this time, and anyway—"

"No, it's not that," said Rory. "It's just...I may have had an idea."

"Oh, you've coined a new insult? Do tell, I think my inspiration's starting to—"

"No—what?—no, that's not what I'm talking about!" said Rory, growing excited and beginning to flap his hands about in a way that reminded Amy annoyingly of the Doctor, and provoked a volley of new insult ideas themed around the Time Lord's overuse of hand gestures. "It's just that—oh, _how _could we have been so stupid?! It was staring us right in the face—or it wasn't, rather! Amy," he want on, as his wife grew less angry and more perplexed, "you know how the Doctor was talking the other day about how he'd like to install an invisibility shield in the TARDIS?"

"Yes," said Amy, frowning. "What about...?" She trailed off almost instantly as comprehension began to dawn. "Oh."

"Oh indeed." said Rory.

* * *

"So, it's along here somewhere?" the Doctor enquired.

"Yes," said the future Doctor, "straight ahead, in fact."

A line crossed the Doctor's forehead. "I don't see it anywhere..."

The future Doctor grinned. "I know."

The Doctor decided it wasn't worth probing his counterpart for any more information at this time, and so he fixed his eyes resolutely ahead, expecting to see the TARDIS at any minute. He didn't, but after a moment something else caught his attention, and he stopped in his tracks. "Hmm..." he said, squinting slightly.

After a moment, the future Doctor stopped as well, turning to face his past self with a puzzled expression. "What's the matter?"

"I think," said the Doctor, putting his hands in his pockets, "that we may just have found your friends."

The future Doctor looked in the direction the Doctor was looking in. After a moment, he brightened visibly. "Oh, yes!" he said. "So we have!"

There followed a moment of silent ecstasy, which began to fade as both Doctors remained motionless and continued to observe the two figures approaching them from the distance. "They don't look very happy," the Doctor remarked.

It was the future Doctor's turn to furrow his brow, which he did for several seconds, then took on a considerably more nervous expression.

"No," he said. "They don't, do they?"

The End

* * *

**A/N: Ehehehe. Gotta love some grumpy Ponds... Anyway, hope you readers enjoyed this little bit of fluffy madness. I intend to begin work on another Sherlock fic soon, but that one may be some time in coming as well. In the meantime, for those of you who didn't read "Time-jacked", I would recommend you take a look at the last couple of chapters if you want an idea of how the whole muddled timelines problem was solved. For those who did, thanks for sticking with me even though I took so long to write this thing!**

**Rex **


End file.
